


the sketchbook

by mccnglade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artist!Sakusa Kiyoomi, Background Sunaosa, M/M, Oblivious Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Soft Miya Atsumu, pining without realization, tw: mild panic attack at the beginning of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mccnglade/pseuds/mccnglade
Summary: Kiyoomi had noticed that as loud as the blonde setter could be and as much of an asshole as he appeared to be, Atsumu had a rather kind heart. Others didn’t notice it. But after that day at the Inter-High, Kiyoomi did. And he didn’t forget.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 132
Collections: Haikyuu Big Bang 2020





	the sketchbook

From the day they had met at the All-Japan Youth Training Camp, Sakusa Kiyoomi had harboured an intense dislike for the annoying setter called Miya Atsumu. For Kiyoomi, Miya’s personality was never appealing; he was annoying, loud, brash and over-confident to a nauseating degree. But Kiyoomi grudgingly had to admit; Miya Atsumu’s tosses were near perfection. He would never admit it to his face. 

In no way Kiyoomi would ever want to inflate Miya’s ego. Both times he attended the youth camp, both times Miya latched onto him, hanging around him as though they were ‘friends’. 

They were not. 

Even at the Inter-High, whispers of Atsumu and his twin’s skills were being sung all over the place, considering Inarizaki one of the top contenders of the tournament. 

But Itachiyama was no different. They had won the Spring High earlier in the year and they were sure-fire favorites to win the Inter-High as well. Which is why as Sakusa wandered through the stadium with his cousin, he could feel eyes on him. Hands stuffed down his jacket and a white mask covering his face, he wished there was a way he could just hide away. He turned around a corner, followed by Komori. Or so he thought.

Because Komori was gone. And the person behind him was a sports journalist, judging by her get-up. As the journalist posed her questions, a small crowd of people slowly started to gather. There was no way to escape either. He happened to be a known player across the volleyball circuit. Being one of the nation’s top aces was a matter of great honor for him; but it came with a certain degree of fame that he couldn’t stand. People wanting to get close to him. There was a reason only a photo of him had appeared in Volleyball Monthly and not an interview. Kiyoomi disliked being around people he didn’t know; people who had no clue about someone’s personal space. Really, he just disliked being around people in general, but the years of playing volleyball had made him somewhat tolerant.  _ Somewhat.  _ Not like the way it was happening now.

Kiyoomi hated this. 

This cramped feeling. This ugly feeling of being surrounded and swallowed up by a group of people who, he was sure, have been in places that may or may not have been clean.

He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat, and tried to think of a way to escape. But his mind completely shut down. All he could think of was this dirty,  _ disgusting  _ feeling, slowly encircling him, getting closer and closer every second. The ringing in his ears gets louder. At the same time, Kiyoomi was also confused. He didn’t understand how these people haven’t seen the turmoil in his face, but enthusiasm and excitement can really blind someone’s perception. And no sport, not even volleyball, is short of having extremely enthusiastic fans.

It was moments like these that made him despise the title he held as one of the nation’s top three aces. To Kiyoomi, titles were useless. All that mattered was how you played on the court.

_ ‘Where did you disappear off too?’ _ Kiyoomi thought of his cousin, Komori. Someone so utterly different from him and yet someone who had been alongside him for a very long time. 

_ One beat.  _

_ Two beats.  _

Was Kiyoomi’s sanitizer in his pocket? He couldn’t feel it. 

_ Three beats.  _

_ ‘Stay calm, _ ’ He silently willed his body.  _ ‘Stay. Calm.’ _

_ Four beats. _

Then, Kiyoomi felt a sudden tug on his sleeve and almost instantly, he recoiled. He looked sideways, only to find himself staring at Miya Atsumu’s blonde hair and the smile he’s come to dislike

“There ya are, Omi-kun!” Miya’s voice was chirpy and loud and the sound grated on Kiyoomi’s ears. But strangely, every other noise, including the voices of those in the crowd, was drowned out by Miya’s voice and for that, Kiyoomi was temporarily grateful. 

Kiyoomi didn’t pay attention to what Miya said next ( _ he simply couldn’t _ ), but slowly the crowd dissipated till it was just him and Miya left standing in the corridor. The blonde setter was suddenly quiet. He tugged on Kiyoomi’s sleeves, almost as though he was asking for permission. Without touching him, Kiyoomi nodded.

Still reeling from the almost panic-attack, he quietly trailed after Miya, his six foot two form, slightly hunched over.

When the fog in his head cleared, Kiyoomi found himself standing in front of an empty bench. Miya suddenly pulled out a pair of disinfectant wipes from the pocket of his jacket and slowly, carefully, wiped down the bench before motioning for Kiyoomi to sit down. Kiyoomi did exactly that and confusion got added to his emotional vortex.

_ Was Miya Atsumu actually helping him? _

Why? Why would he even want to do something like this? In Kiyoomi’s mind, Miya was supposed to be this selfish, self-centred person who could throw some incredible tosses. But that was it. Never did he expect to be helped by the very same person he’s come to almost hate. Most of all, Kiyoomi never expected Miya Atsumu, of all people, to be carrying disinfectant wipes or to wipe down the bench for him.

He could sense Miya glancing at him every few seconds, trying to gauge his mood. He didn’t say a single word though.

As he was now, Kiyoomi didn’t think he was really capable of saying much. The fog may have disappeared from his head but the icky feeling remains. It was a wonder how he had allowed Miya to sit next to him. In all other cases, he would be running to the nearest bathroom and try to scrub the non-existent dirt off him. But not here. Not now. Not with Miya sitting right next to him.

“Are you okay there, Omi-kun?” Miya asked in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

After a few more moments of calming his spinning thoughts, Sakusa delivered his monosyllabic answer. “No.” 

There was no hostility in his voice though. After being helped out of one of his ‘freak-outs’ ( _ as he had termed them as a kid _ ), Sakusa was grateful to Miya  _ for once _ and that was not for his tosses. He hadn’t pried into anything; he had just helped him with no ulterior motive.

But in spite of that, Kiyoomi couldn’t help the question that left his mouth. “Miya, why did you help me?”

Miya didn’t look surprised; he almost looked like he was expecting this question. “I ain’t heartless, ya know? And besides, you looked like you needed help, so why wouldn’t I help you?”

“Because you’re you.” Kiyoomi’s voice finally felt steady to his ears and held his usual bluntness. “You don’t help anyone unless you need something from them.”

“Hey! Omi-kun, that’s a mean thing to say!” Miya whined, his voice becoming just an octave higher.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Wha-Omi-kun? Ya don’t like it?”

The gleeful look on Miya’s face told Kiyoomi that his irritation about the nickname would not stop the setter from using it.

“No, of course, I don’t like it, Miya.”

“Well, since I’m getting to call ya that, it’s only fair that you should call me Atsumu.”

“I never gave you permission to call me that and I am  _ not  _ going to call you Atsumu,” Kiyoomi replies bluntly. “You’re always going to be Miya in my head.”

“Oh? So ya think about me?” Miya- _ no,  _ Atsumu had a very teasing smile on his face. “I’m very flattered, Omi-kun.”

“Go to hell,” Kiyoomi glared. To which, Atsumu let out a hearty laugh. 

“Yer pretty funny too, Omi-kun!”

_ ‘Huh,’  _ Kiyoomi suddenly thought. ‘ _ Not bad.’ _

Atsumu’s laugh didn’t sound all too bad to him. In fact, it would be fair to say he liked the sound and the underlying nasally quality to it. A second later, he shook the thought of his head. Because there was no way he was admiring Miya Atsumu’s laugh. He refused to believe that or even go down that way. 

“Well then, see ya around,  _ Omi-kun _ ,” Atsumu stood up from the bench with a flair. “Can’t wait to kick yer ass in the finals.”

“Don’t think too much of yourself, Miya,” Kiyoomi also stood up from the bench, now facing Miya. “Arrogance isn’t a good look.”

“Who says I’m being arrogant, Omi-kun?” Atsumu smirked at him, running a hand through his blonde hair. “I just believe in my team. I’ll show ya in court how good this team is.”

“We’ll see about that, Miya.”

They do. Itachiyama won the Inter-High that year, beating Inarizaki in a close match. And the moment the whistle rang for his team’s victory, Kiyoomi smirked across the net, staring at a very frustrated looking setter. 

* * *

Kiyoomi was not surprised at the amount of offers he got from teams when he reached his third year. He shot up in the ranks, claiming the position of Japan’s strongest high school ace as Ushijima Wakatoshi graduated, moving to the National team. Kiyoomi’s plays are powerful, his spikes nearly unstoppable and his serves are praised too. But even with all the offers from the all divisions of the V-League; from the start, Kiyoomi’s choice had been MSBY Black Jackals. An in-depth research on this team revealed the strength and the consistency of its players. And consistency was something that Kiyoomi liked. 

Kiyoomi officially accepted the offer from the Jackals, the day after he graduated from college. He moved into the official MSBY dorms ( _ or apartments, for a better word _ ) a week later, once the contract was finalized and all the paperwork was sorted out. His apartment at the MSBY dorm was neither too small, nor too big and came equipped with a small kitchen and a bathroom. The bedroom slowly became his getaway zone from everything. It was the place that housed all his secrets.

Especially his sketchbook.

Kiyoomi’s skills at drawing were a well-kept secret, known only to his cousin and his parents. It was an activity that was a big part of his daily routine, just like cleaning. Putting pen to paper was a very relaxing feeling and the bliss it gave him couldn’t be described. Seeing his thoughts in the form of pictures was a cathartic release and something he was never going to share with the outside world.

Who would expect Sakusa Kiyoomi, nearly six foot-three, hunched over a desk drawing away? Sometimes, the thought of telling someone made Kiyoomi laugh. But this was a secret he would never share, not even with his teammates at MSBY. He liked them all ( _ except for Atsumu; a part of Kiyoomi still disliked him, even when they were teammates _ ), surprisingly enough, but this was something they could never talk about. Though, Kiyoomi had tried to imagine what their reaction would be. 

Bokuto and Hinata’s reaction would be the same. They’d believe him, but then they’d immediately beg to see what was inside his sketchbook. That could  _ never  _ happen.

Inunaki and Tomas were the opposite. They’d refuse to believe Kiyoomi, but still they would demand to see what was inside. And again, that could not happen at all.

Meian-san, their captain, and Barnes, one of their strongest players, would just nod and accept it without a word. 

Atsumu though...Kiyoomi had absolutely no clue how he would react. 

Even with all his brightness and eagerness to be friendly with everyone, Kiyoomi knew next to nothing about Atsumu, except for whatever he told the team. He knew Osamu, Atsumu’s twin brother, was setting up a branch of Onigiri Miya in Osaka, quite near to where the Jackals practiced. He also knew that Osamu was currently dating Suna Rintaro, an ex-teammate from Inarizaki, who currently played for EJP Raijin, the same team as his cousin.

Beyond that, Kiyoomi’s knowledge of Atsumu wasn’t much beyond how he played on court. And since he usually didn’t go to team outings, Kiyoomi didn’t really have a clue about how Atsumu acted off-court either.

But still...he was the same Atsumu that he had been in high school, maybe  _ slightly  _ mature. Just slightly though. Because mature and Miya Atsumu were two things that didn’t belong in one sentence.

With this thought in mind, Kiyoomi sat down in the small desk of his room, pencil, eraser and the sketchbook laid on top. At first, he decided to go through his drawings. With gentle hands, he opened the sketchbook and slowly flipped through the pages. The drawings were varied; most of them were rough sketches, some full pieces with proper shading. Kiyoomi never drew with a specific thing in mind; he always let the pencil guide him. There were trees, there were flowers, there were buildings and there were a few abstract scenes. 

Lately though, Kiyoomi had only been drawing portraits. Different portraits of the same person, who was unrecognizable to him, beyond the fact that the person was a male and had a hairstyle that changed with every portrait. It was rather strange, he thought, how he was fixated upon drawing this man that dwelled in his dreams. But Kiyoomi ignored the feeling; he was just drawing to relax and if making a portrait of this unrecognizable man was what was going to get his mind to rest, then so be it. 

It was just a drawing after all. It didn’t have any other meaning.

* * *

Practice was  _ finally _ over and Kiyoomi was walking back to his apartment. With Atsumu. Why, you might ask? Atsumu had wanted to stay late to practice his serves. Usually, it would have been Bokuto or Hinata but they had left right on time today; and Kiyoomi had ( _ unwittingly _ ) volunteered to stay with him and practice. And  _ that _ had run very late, ending at 9PM, leaving them the last two players in the gym.

And since their apartments were on the same floor, they were walking back together. Yes, they unfortunately had apartments on the same floor. But luckily they were on opposite ends, so Kiyoomi didn’t end up being neighbours with Atsumu, though he supposed sharing the floor was a similar thing. 

Atsumu, meanwhile, was babbling away as usual, talking about his brother and his boyfriend and something about ‘Samu throwing his relationship in my face’. Kiyoomi was  _ not  _ interested but would that get Atsumu to stop talking? It wouldn’t.

“Am I not a date-able person, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asked, looking towards Kiyoomi.

“That’s not a word, Miya. And...who’d want to date you?”

“Ouch, Omi-kun! That’s very mean!” Atsumu practically whined. “I will have you know that I am a very dateable person.”

“That’s not a word, Miya,” Kiyoomi pointed out. “At least, make an effort to improve your vocabulary.”

“Hey!” Atsumu said, raising a hand to playfully shove Kiyoomi’s shoulders. Kiyoomi nearly flinched, but even before that reaction, Atsumu had already dropped his hand to its original position at his side. 

“Sorry about that, Omi-kun. I forgot that ya don’t like being touched,” Atsumu murmured with an apologetic smile. Even that smile appeared a lot nicer to Kiyoomi than he’d like to admit. 

“Why are you apologising? You did nothing wrong,” Kiyoomi said plainly. And the next sentence flew right out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

“I...I wouldn’t mind a high five or two if it’s you, Miya.” 

Atsumu froze, just as they reached the top of the stairs, arriving at their floor. Kiyoomi glanced at the setter out of the corner of his eye. Atsumu looked shocked, mouth opening and closing rapidly like a fish.

“Omi-kun, w-what?”

“I’m not going to repeat what I just said,” Kiyoomi said, feeling warmth spread across his cheeks. “Goodnight, Miya. See you at practice tomorrow.”

“W-wait, Omi-kun -!” 

Ignoring Atsumu’s words, Kiyoomi practically speed-walked to his apartment. He didn’t bother to look back. He absolutely couldn’t. Kiyoomi knew if he did,  _ something  _ would happen and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet. Or it would be better to say, he didn’t want to be ready for it because it would involve him admitting things that he wasn’t ready and hadn’t accepted yet. 

Kiyoomi quickly entered his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He took off his shoes and used the hand sanitizer kept at the entrance before he stepped inside. 

Fifteen minutes later, after a refreshing shower, Kiyoomi was seated at his desk with his sketchbook in front of him. He flipped it open to a blank page and picked up the pencil. For a few moments, he twirled the pencil between his fingers, unable to decide what he would draw. He released a sigh, drawing a few random strokes on the page. He let his hand flow across the page, sketching here and there. Kiyoomi didn’t even know what ( _ or who _ ) he was drawing. It would be interesting to see what the final result turned out to be.

An hour of sketching later, the page was completely covered in pencil strokes and the sketch was complete. Kiyoomi instantly recognized what he had drawn. It was the portrait of the same man he had been drawing for the past few weeks. But this time…

This time, the man had a suspiciously familiar haircut. Kiyoomi had seen it many times before. It looked very similar to the haircut…

Wait. 

_ Wait. _

It couldn’t be...could it? 

Kiyoomi jolted back, immediately shutting the sketchbook. Had he actually drawn  _ him? _ That had to be a joke his own mind decided to play on him. It couldn’t be him. Kiyoomi refused to believe it. 

_ Or could it be him? _

Slowly, Kiyoomi opened his sketchbook, flipping it open to his newest drawing. It hadn’t changed,  _ obviously _ . He looked at it again, holding the sketchbook closer to his face so that he could get a better look. The drawing still remained the same. No matter how Kiyoomi looked at it, from all angles, it didn’t change. 

The face on the page definitely resembled Miya Atsumu. Kiyoomi stared ( _ or rather glared _ ) at the drawing. He had to accept it. And really, there was no other way of looking at it. He had somehow drawn Atsumu’s face in his sketchbook. His sketchbook was a place where he drew to relax. In it, Kiyoomi had drawn Atsumu’s face. 

So did that mean seeing Atsumu’s face relaxed him? The very notion of that seemed absurd. Miya Atsumu was not the type of person you would go to if you wanted to relax. He was loud, tended to get in your personal space and was rather physically affectionate. All things Kiyoomi disliked. 

_ ‘But he is not like that with you,’  _ A little part of his mind whispered to him. 

And the more he thought about it, Kiyoomi realized it was true. Atsumu  _ was  _ different around him. With Bokuto, Hinata, with the rest of their team, Atsumu tended to be very close to them, with arms wrapped around their shoulders, laughing together. Around Kiyoomi, Atsumu was more cautious and watchful. While he was still loud and noisy, he was also strangely  _ calm _ around him, very respectful of Kiyoomi’s boundaries, while still asking him random, and quite frankly, very stupid things.

It almost felt like Atsumu was trying to take care of Kiyoomi in his own way. 

_ ‘But why would he even do that?’  _ Kiyoomi thought.  _ ‘He has no reason to be like that with me.’ _

And for Kiyoomi, that didn’t explain why he had drawn Atsumu into his sketchbook. He had  _ no reason  _ to do that, but somehow he had drawn a portrait of Atsumu instead of a portrait of that unidentified man. He flipped the pages of his sketchbook, arriving at the first sketch he had made of the unidentified man.

Suddenly, even that drawing seemed to resemble Atsumu. Maybe not completely, but Kiyoomi could see parts of him in it; the slight crinkle at the corner of Atsumu’s eyes, the hint of his  _ too _ -bright smile…

Kiyoomi flipped to the next page and to the next portrait, and again he realized how similar it looked to Atsumu. In this one, his smile was more prominent. Kiyoomi ran his thumb across it, wondering what it would be like to do that in real…

He shook his head and flipped to the next drawing. And to the next, and to the next till he finally arrived at the newest one. Every single one bore some resemblance to Atsumu, in one way or the other. Kiyoomi closed his sketchbook. There was no other way to look at this. 

His sketchbook was something he used to relax. He had drawn Atsumu in his sketchbook. It must mean that Atsumu relaxed him, in some way. The idea sounded very absurd to Kiyoomi, but a part of him agreed with it. Over the time he had come to know Atsumu, especially after  _ that  _ incident at the Inter-High tournament, Kiyoomi had noticed that as loud as the blonde setter could be and as much of an asshole as he appeared to be, Atsumu had a rather kind heart. Others didn’t notice it. But after that day at the Inter-High, Kiyoomi did. And he didn’t forget it.

He looked down at the sketchbook, at the drawing he had made and realized that he could no longer stop thinking about it. Kiyoomi sighed. What exactly do you do when something like this happens? He was pretty sure that there was no one who could give him an exact answer to his questions. Except maybe Komori.

Kiyoomi leaned back in his chair and quickly dialled his cousin’s number. After three rings, Komori picked up.

“Wassup, Sakusa,” He greeted, as bright and cheery as always. “It’s strange you’re calling me first. Everything okay?”

“Hello to you too,” Kiyoomi practically deadpanned. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay, go on.”

Suddenly Kiyoomi felt hesitant. What would he even ask? He knew his cousin would instantly be suspicious. He took in a deep breath and slowly released it. “What do you think of Miya Atsumu?”

“Huh?  _ You’re _ asking about Atsumu?” Komori said, his voice suddenly teasing. “Did his many attempts at flirting finally get you?”

Kiyoomi completely froze. “What?”

“What?”

“Can you repeat what you just said? Atsumu’s been what-” Kiyoomi said, hesitantly, like he couldn’t believe it. And he couldn’t. 

“Sakusa, tell me you know that Atsumu has been flirting with you for ages,” Komori sounded rather shocked. “Tell me you  _ know  _ that. That guy’s basically been in love with you since highschool.”

“I hope that’s a joke,” Kiyoomi said out loud. “Miya Atsumu is not in love with me.” The very notion of the idea seemed absurd to him. Why would he even-

Out of nowhere, Komori burst out laughing. “Oh trust me, he is. I can’t believe you didn’t notice that. Anyone with an eye can see Atsumu is in love with you. Don’t you notice how different he is around you? He isn’t like that with just anybody. And trust me, both Sunarin and Osamu have said so. Osamu called him a lost puppy, trailing after you to give him some affection.”

_ ‘Lost puppy, huh? Now that fits him,’ _ Kiyoomi thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “I see.”

“What’s this about anyway?” Komori asked, now sounding a little curious. 

Kiyoomi shrugged. If he was going to say it, then he’d say it to his cousin first, even if he was bound to get teased for it. “I unknowingly drew Atsumu in my sketchbook and I didn’t realize it till today, when I drew him again.”

“Oh.  _ Oh,  _ damn. In your sketchbook, huh.” 

“Yeah.”

“So, do  _ you  _ like him?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t-Okay, what exactly do you think of him?”

Kiyoomi contemplated for a second. There were a lot of things he thought about Atsumu. “He’s loud, over-confident, optimistic to a nauseating degree. And whenever he’s with Hinata and Bokuto, he just gets ten times as loud. He’s annoying and refuses to call me by proper name and uses that stupid nickname. I don’t even know why he’s so accommodating and careful around me. Him and his stupid annoying smile and stupid face...he’s just stuck inside my head and I want him out. And…”

As Kiyoomi finished his statement, he suddenly realized exactly what he had said. Slowly, the words seemed to sink into him. Komori had also gone quiet, having never seen his cousin speak in such a  _ passionate _ way. 

“Sakusa,” Komori spoke up. “Well, that last bit there just gave you your answer. You sounded like you like him back.” 

“Do I now?” 

“You sure sounded like it.”

“What exactly do I do now?”

Kiyoomi had never been in a situation like this. Having actual feelings towards someone like Miya Atsumu? He’d never even thought about Atsumu in that way. The more he was thinking about it all, the more he remembered situations, where he had unknowingly smiled at something Atsumu said or did. 

“Well, do you want to tell him?” 

“I don’t know. This is all just confusing, Motoya. Should I?”

“I think you should. Atsumu has liked you for ages and hearing that you like him back would only be a nice thing. But it’s on you to decide what you want to do.”

Kiyoomi, unintentionally, let out a sigh. A part of him wanted to keep it a secret; to never say a thing. Another part of him wanted to tell Atsumu everything; starting from the sketchbook. It wanted him to show all the portraits he had drawn to him.

“I’m hanging up now. You take care.”

“Let me know how it goes. Bye Sakusa!” Komori cheerfully said, ending the call before Kiyoomi could. 

He put his phone on the table and leaned forward. With arms crossed, he stared at the sketchbook. The thing that started this whole situation and kicked off a sudden realization of his feelings for Atsumu. How had Kiyoomi  _ not realised _ it all this while? 

But now that he knew about this, he  _ really  _ couldn’t stop thinking about it. At all. It was all embedded in his mind, completely taking over. He wondered if this was how all romantic relationships began. With the person in your affection completely taking over your mind. 

Not that he was interested in one. He absolutely wasn’t.

But something in him wondered what it would be like. What would it be like to love Miya Atsumu with every part of your being? What would it be like to completely bare your soul in front of him?

Kiyoomi looked at his phone. It was 10PM. And if there was one thing he knew about Atsumu, it was that the setter stayed up  _ too  _ late. Yet, he managed to look annoyingly fresh the next morning.  _ No _ signs of staying up till 2AM, doing something stupid with either Hinata or Bokuto or both of them. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he looked at his sketchbook again. 

His mind was made up. He was going to do it. Kiyoomi didn’t see the point of keeping it to himself; eventually, he would tell Atsumu. It would be the best to do it now. He only hoped his cousin was right about Atsumu’s feelings.

Kiyoomi grabbed his sketchbook and his phone off the table, holding them both close to his chest. He quickly walked out of his bedroom and made his way towards the entrance of his apartment, where he put on his slippers and hastily pulled on a mask. He grabbed the keys from a small wall hanging right next to the door and opened the door, stepping out of the apartment. Quickly locking the door again, he put the keys back in his book.

Outside, the sky was inky black and tonight the streets of Osaka were much quieter. Kiyoomi stared out into the darkness. Silhouettes of buildings were visible in the distance. Streetlights, from the distance, looked like little stars. 

Kiyoomi took in a deep breath and started walking in the direction of Atsumu’s apartment. It wasn’t too far from his, just two doors away. Barely a minute passed and he was already in front of the door. His sketchbook in one hand, he raised his other to knock on the door. But just as his fist was about to meet wood, he stopped.

Was he actually about to do this? Kiyoomi knew. He knew that the moment he knocked on the door, everything would change. 

But the moment’s hesitation passed. Kiyoomi knocked on the door three times and waited with bated breath for Atsumu to open.

_ One beat. _

_ Two beats. _

_ Three- _

The door swung open. For a moment there was silence. Kiyoomi took that moment to observe the boy in front of him. His hair looked wet and there was a towel draped around his shoulders. He must have showered recently, in the past few minutes. He was dressed in a simple dark blue t-shirt and grey bermuda shorts. Before he could add another thought to the slowly growing train in his mind, Atsumu finally spoke.

“Omi-kun? Whatcha’ doing here so late at night?” He asked. His cheeks were lightly tinted pink; he was definitely flustered. “Did ya need something or…?”

Kiyoomi took in a deep breath and finally spoke. “Do you like me, Miya?”

“Like ya? Of course, I like ya!” Atsumu said, laughing nervously. “Yer a great spiker. Why wouldn’t I like ya?”

Kiyoomi resisted the urge to roll his eyes, before he, in his classic straightforward manner, said, “Motoya told me that you’re in love with me. I...I want to know if that’s true.”

“That is  _ not  _ how you were supposed to find out,” Atsumu mumbled under his breath. 

Kiyoomi faltered, sketchbook almost falling from his grip. “So it  _ is  _ true?”

“Huh?”

“Do you like me, Mi- _ Atsumu? _ ”

Atsumu looked like his brain was suddenly fried. “Ahh, okay...what just...did you call me…”

Now, Kiyoomi actually rolled his eyes. “Your name. Is that not what it is?”

“But you never call me that. Why would you say it now?”

“Answer my question first, Atsumu. Do you love me?”

“Again, why do you even wanna know that?” Atsumu crossed his arms, a mildly frustrated look on his face. “What’s it to you?”

Kiyoomi sighed. Taking a deep breath, he held his sketchbook out, motioning for Atsumu to take it. 

“This is my...uh...sketchbook…” Kiyoomi was hesitant, keeping a close look at Atsumu for what he was thinking. “You should take a look at it.”

“You can draw?” Atsumu looked shocked. “Wait. And yer letting me touch this thing...are ya okay, Omi-kun?”

“I’m fine,” Kiyoomi replied, hands suddenly feeling empty. He started fiddling with his fingers, realizing that he had forgotten to wear gloves. It was an odd feeling. 

“Ya should come in,” Atsumu said, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I should’ve done that before, but ya just…” He trailed off, looking at the sketchbook in his hand. 

For a second, Kiyoomi hesitated. What was he even doing here? But a second went by and he had already taken a step entering Atsumu’s apartment. It was surprisingly clean, he realized. Things were a little scattered here and there, but they weren’t messy at all. It was nothing like Kiyoomi had imagined it to be. 

“What’s wrong, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asked, as he shut the door behind him. Kiyoomi almost jumped. He had nearly forgotten that Atsumu was behind him.

“Nothing,” He answered plainly as he turned around, hoping his racing heart would calm down soon. “Everything’s okay. Just look through the sketchbook.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

“Okay,” Atsumu looked at him with a wary gaze. He opened the sketchbook. The first page had Kiyoomi’s name written in his neat handwriting and beneath it was a pencil sketch of a tree. Feeling more curious than before, he slowly flipped through the pages. Every piece was done with pencil, though there were some that looked like they were done in ballpoint pen. Atsumu couldn’t really see a theme to the drawings, if there was supposed to be one. But all of them were incredible. They were abstract pieces. Sometimes it was people, other times it was flowers and trees. “These are pretty good, Omi-kun. I didn’t know ya could draw this well.”

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi answered stiffly. “You should look at the latest drawings. Specifically the one I drew today.”

Atsumu quickly flipped to the pages, eyes skimming over portraits of a man who looked suspiciously familiar.  _ ‘I wonder who this is. _ ’ There were plenty of drawings of this man and each made him feel like he had seen this man somewhere before. 

Till he flipped to the latest drawing. Then, he looked up at Kiyoomi, who looked expectant, and then he looked back at the drawing. 

Of all the things in the world, it was a drawing of..

“Me. Omi-kun, ya drew me?” Atsumu stared at the drawing. Then stared at Kiyoomi. Then stared at the drawing again. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Kiyoomi suddenly said. “My sketchbook...it’s one of the things that keeps me calm and relaxed. Especially when I’m stressed. I don’t think about what I draw in it. I just draw whatever’s on my mind. I had been getting a little frustrated with things recently and every time I picked up the pencil, I drew a portrait. And today, I accidentally drew you.”

“How do you  _ accidentally  _ draw someone?”

“Will you let me finish?”

“Sorry, go on.”

“As I was saying...I didn’t realize at first it was you. A part of me doesn’t want to accept it’s you. Because you’re Miya Atsumu and you’re not someone I would ever associate with my sketchbook. In some freaky way, Miya, being around you relaxes me. Your stupid smile is annoying and it’s always stuck in my mind. And after talking to Motoya today, I have come to the realization that I may potentially have feelings for you.” Kiyoomi said the last sentence rather reluctantly. 

“Omi-kun, I swear if this is some sick joke yer playing on me, then it’s not funny,” Atsumu quietly said, holding out the sketchbook. “I don’t care about what ya draw. It’s yer thing. But don’t play with my feelings and say that ya like me back when ya don’t. Because that’s hurtful.”

Kiyoomi took the sketchbook from Atsumu’s outstretched hands. Now, he spoke in a gentle and utterly sincere voice. “I don’t know anything about love or relationships, Atsumu. But I know that I have feelings for you. You’ve been on my mind for ages and as annoying as that is, I don’t mind. In fact, I may even like it.”

“So ya actually have feelings for me, Omi-kun? No joke?”

“It’s no joke. Atsumu, what do you feel?”

Atsumu smiled. And unlike his usual smiles, this was different. There was no teasing behind it. It was just Atsumu’s pure happiness shining through. 

“I feel the same.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time i'm posting something on AO3 and of course, it had to be for SakuAtsu. these two unexpectedly took over my life and I didn't even see it coming. and now i'm obsessed with them lol.
> 
> this fic was written for the haikyuu big bang! it will also have some amazing art by [olive](https://twitter.com/flakeandbake1) and the moment they post it, i will link it here.  
> EDIT: [art for the fic <3](https://twitter.com/Flakeandbake1/status/1365332360045203457)
> 
> i hope you all enjoy reading this! i would love and appreciate kudos and comments on the fic <3
> 
> talk to me on my twitter: [cloudedgalaxies](https://twitter.com/cloudedgalaxies)


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